The back window above us opened, and a lone figure stood at the frame, silhouetted. He was watching us, as I looked up at him. He did nothing, said ...othing, for a long few moments, all the while Juan’s pathetic cock kept pistoning in me. I let loose a small squeal, as it seemed hopeless now, and I actually felt a jolt of pleasure from Juan, as he finished with my neck, a mark I was sure was going to bruise, and bruise darkly. The stranger then reached to his center, and I could see him. It moved as though it was a part of her, revealing fleeting lines of breast, hip, and thigh with the slightest motion of her body. Down the front, a single row of soft, tiny, black buttons, an inch apart, ran from neckline to ankle. He had watched her button each one, an agonizingly slow process. She had taken her time, smiling up at him after every two or three, as if to say, "Imagine how long it will take him to get to me, to open me up, to peel me like a piece of wet, juicy fruit." The heavy. More

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